Sniper Elite (13 page)

I was still very keen to get out of 3RAR. The Timor experience only reinforced my desire to try and crack selection. When we were on the helipad in Dili we saw British SBS, the NZ SAS and SASR getting into helicopters and flying out to a job. They returned later after a successful patrol. I remember thinking that I really wanted to be a part of that organisation.

We had about four weeks leave when we arrived home from Timor and it was during this time that I found out I had malaria. I did come down with a fever over there but by the time I got to a medical facility the virus had withdrawn back into my liver and a blood test didn't diagnose it. So I just carried on as normal. The eradication drugs didn't work on return to Australia, nor did they on many other soldiers from 3RAR. So after a couple weeks back in the country I started to feel the effects of the malaria getting stronger every other day until I began shivering uncontrollably. The temperature outside that day was 40 degrees but I felt so cold that I had to wear a thick jacket to control the shivering. George took me to the army hospital on Holsworthy camp where I spent the weekend. A nurse took a blood sample and the pathology lab confirmed I had vivax malaria.

Malaria can be quite debilitating and is very hard to shake. The symptoms come on gradually. At first you feel lethargic; the next day you can feel fine; but the following day your joints ache, you've a backache and you develop photophobia as your eyes become very sensitive to light. It comes on in stages increasing in severity. Some people have slightly different symptoms and different strains of the virus have a variety of effects.

When we returned to work the battalion had started its internal posting cycle, which is designed to broaden your experience in other areas. The choices ranged from the HQ Admin Company, the fighting companies or Support Company, which included the pioneers (battalion engineers), the reconnaissance platoon, heavy weapons (including machine guns and 84 mm rocket launchers), the mortar platoon and the sniper section. I had focused my attention on the sniper section.

First I was panelled to do the parachute course. I had already completed the British course at RAF Brize Norton and had to produce evidence of this. It was now the end of April and they sent me down to the Parachute Training School in Nowra. I was starting to feel the effects of malaria coming on again and knew I would be in the hurt locker in a few days time. While waiting to start the course I saw one of the instructors, Easto, who was from 3RAR. When he saw me he said, ‘What the fuck are you doing here?' in his rough sounding voice. I said, ‘They told me I've got to do the course again.' He said, ‘Mate, get back in the car and fuck off.' Barry Rhodes drove me home that afternoon. Barry is an Australian lad who also served in the UK. In the early 80s he had joined the Royal Green Jackets, a light infantry regiment. He had also spent some time in Northern Ireland with them and on return to Australia he joined 3RAR. He was the parachute expert in the batallion.

I have no idea why they didn't initially recognise that qualification, but I'm glad they did in the end, as parachuting isn't one of my favourite pastimes. That was the only qualification from the marines that was recognised. They wouldn't have a bar of my sniper or reconnaissance qualifications. Whatever the cause, they made it known that I had to complete the 3RAR four-week basic sniper course and reconnaissance course to get back on track.

In June 2000 I had my first opportunity to do the barrier/pre-selection test for the SAS. A team from the regiment visited Holsworthy on their regular annual recruiting drive and they held the testing at 4RAR, a regular infantry battalion that had recently changed its role to a commando unit.

I had prepared myself reasonably well for the three-day course and I felt good the first day and achieved some good results. But the following day I was struck with another malaria attack during the long early morning pack march. We had to complete a minimum of 24 kilometres and a maximum of 28 kilometres in four hours carrying 32 kilos of kit. I started towards the front but gradually got slower and watched everyone pass me. At the 14-kilometre mark I could hardly talk and it was a struggle to stay upright. The medics there thought I was out of my tree–everything I wanted to say was jumbled and they couldn't understand me. I withdrew from the course and the next day George had to take me back to hospital again. Two days later I returned to 3RAR with my tail between my legs. I was gutted.

I resumed my 3RAR routine and a few weeks after the reconnaissance course I started the four-week basic battalion sniper course. I had already completed a far superior course in the Royal Marines but in a way I was glad that I had to do it. At least it would prevent people from whinging about me being a member of the sniper section without doing their course, plus it got me on the same net as everyone else. I did struggle at first during the stalks as the foliage in Australia, unlike the UK, is generally above knee height, so finding the effective prone position I was accustomed to was difficult. I now had to rely more on aids like the tripod and also tying my weapon to a tree to use as a support for the standing firing position.

During the course we used a civilian range facility at Mittagong in the New South Wales Southern Highlands. It was an 800-metre range with very different wind conditions from those I was used to. The wind would zigzag its way down the range and oddly enough this meant the rifles hardly required any windage adjustments, maybe one or two clicks left to compensate for spin drift, or Magnus drift as it is also known. For the Schmidt & Bender variable 3–12 power scope, one click at 100 metres equates to a 1-centimetre adjustment, so applying the rule of subtension, one click at 800 metres equates to 8 centimetres; two clicks at 800 metres is 16 centimetres and so on. This adjustment applies to elevation and windage corrections.

During the course I became good mates with Lee W, an ex-Grenadier guardsman from England who joined 3RAR not long before I got there and was also a veteran of the first Gulf War. Lee is professional soldier, but not very diplomatic when it comes to letting someone know that they've either screwed up, or just not up to Lee's standard. We got on well and developed our own little competitions throughout the course.

It wasn't long before I suffered another hit from malaria. We were judging a few distances around the camp when it came on rather quickly. I could feel my back aching and had a horrible taste in my mouth. It wasn't long before I started to shiver, so Flynny, one of the instructors, took me to hospital. It was a good thing it was Friday afternoon and we were not too far away from knock-off. On Monday morning I left the hospital and rejoined the course. This time the doctor gave me a trial drug that the defence force was looking at implementing. It worked for about six months until I suffered from malaria again on the Sniper Team Leader course at Singleton.

I have read quite a lot about the art of sniping since my first sniper course in the marines and there is widespread misconception about the role of the sniper. The media have managed to rubbish the true professionals' name by calling everyone who's managed to shoot someone with anything other than a handgun ‘a sniper'. So now the whole identity of snipers has been tarnished and the sniper trade looks somewhat cheapened. The actual word ‘sniper' came from British soldiers in India during the colonial days. If someone was lucky enough to shoot a bird called a snipe as it flew they were regarded as a sniper. But the role of a sniper didn't really catch on until World War I. This is when Australian Billy Sing made his name. Billy Sing shot between 150 and 200 Turkish soldiers during the Gallipoli campaign.

Billy's mother was English and his father was Chinese immigrant who'd hung on after the gold rush days. Billy was born in Claremont, Central Queensland, and was already a highly ranked target shooter when he enlisted. On Gallipoli they teamed him with a spotter named Ion Idriess, who would later become one of Australia's better known authors, and they caused havoc in the Turkish ranks. In fact, the Turks sent their best man, ‘Abdul the Terrible', to hunt him down. Billy was too good for him. He spotted Abdul under cover and fired first. He was decorated with a Distinguished Conduct Medal in 1916 and returned a hero in 1918. Unfortunately, his life ended sadly. His marriage broke down and he died broke and alone in a Brisbane boarding house in 1943.

Lance Corporal Simo Häyhä, a Finnish sniper known as ‘The White Death', is credited with killing an amazing 542 Soviet soldiers (an average of five a day) during the Winter War using a SAKO m/28–30 (Pystykorva) and iron sights. He's regarded as the most effective sniper in the history of warfare.

Zhang Taofang, a Chinese soldier during the Korean War, made 214 confirmed kills in 32 days without using a scope. And a New Zealander, Alfred Hulme, won the Victoria Cross after he stalked and killed 33 German snipers in the Battle of Crete during World War II.

But the bloke who really impressed me was Gunnery Sergeant Carlos Hathcock in the Vietnam War. He had 93 confirmed kills but the real figure was very much higher of unconfirmed KIAs. For 35 years he held the record of the longest confirmed kill–a distance of 2,250 yards made with a scoped M2 Browning machine gun. It was finally beaten in 2002 by a Canadian, Corporal Rob Furlong, in Operation Anaconda, Afghanistan with a confirmed kill at 2,430 metres using a .50-calibre McMillan TAC-50 rifle.

Carlos Hathcock was a marine corps scout sniper who became one of several American sniper heroes from Vietnam, not so much because of the number of confirmed kills or because he was an incredible marksman but because of his extraordinary all-round skills. Being a good or great sniper isn't measured by your number of kills; it's by being able to use your skills to the highest of standards. The real test is to be able to carry out successful missions time and time again, varying your modus operandi and living to tell the tale.

Carlos Hathcock's tactical application and sheer guts set a new standard and paved the way for the next generation. He became a role model for modern day snipers around the world. I tried to mirror his practical application and knowledge in my own sniper career. His greatest asset was his patience; he was also a brilliant marksman. A book was written about his experiences and documented an occasion where he pinned down an entire enemy company, which took cover for three days in a rice field before attempting a breakout. When they did he was waiting. He hadn't moved. This is a great example of what highly trained snipers are capable of. I have read this book a few times now and realised that everything about the ‘dark art' suited my character and outlook.

I am a bit of an individual, but it's the tactical sense of sniping and the stealth that I find most engaging: getting yourself into the right firing position without being seen, taking the shot, the result and your extraction. You take everything you've been taught, put it into the one package and make it tactically sound. About 70 per cent of the sniper trade is no more than basic infantry skills but applied at a very high standard. It is the other 30 per cent that makes a good sniper and I believe this is where the ‘dark art' lies. This is the area that the enemy find most sinister and where you have to put all emotion aside because you are planning in great detail to stealthily kill a specific person on the battlefield, leaving only a dead body as an indicator that you were around. Temperament is important in all forms of soldiering, but especially in sniping. It is a trade where you really have to stay calm. Your field skills have really got to be exceptional, and you've got to apply yourself to that skill. You can get yourself into position unseen or unheard easily enough, but if you can't judge distance or read mirage or wind then you're not going to be able to hit your target. It's all those little factors that all add up to complete the package.

Having a steady hand is also important, but other skills like tracking are also valuable; or at least have an understanding of tracking so when you're moving through an area you're not leaving any sign for anybody else to see. If you do leave signs you've got to cover them up somehow. If you break a twig or leave muddy boot prints on freshly fallen foliage which indicates your route, the enemy may see that, so you've always got to be mindful of the disturbance you are creating to the environment. If you're stalking with a ghillie suit on it's got fabric attached to break up your outline, so you've got to be aware of it becoming snagged on obstacles and getting pieces ripped off. Any soldier seeing that will know immediately there's a sniper in the area or one has moved through, which will bring more attention into your AO.

You've got to have the fitness and the techniques to get to unusual positions. You've got to be able to read maps proficiently, have a good sense of direction, be able to read shadows and how long they'll be at a certain time of day and use them to your advantage.

If you present yourself in an area where there's a lot of sunlight, movement is likely to catch someone's eye. It's about moving slowly and stealthily and using the terrain to your advantage to cover your movement.

You've always got to be able to see what's coming up and be aware of what's around you. So every now and again you might have to get yourself into a position on a bit of high ground where you can observe or listen to see if there is any enemy movement, or even to get an indication that someone has noticed you're around.

In March 2001 I started the Sniper Team Leader course in Singleton with my good mate Lee. We were joined by several other snipers from infantry battalions that were based in Darwin and Townsville. This course was very similar to the Royal Marines course I had completed six years before and was thoroughly enjoyable. However, my malaria raised its ugly head several times over the six-week period. By now I was really starting to get pissed off with it. It just seemed like every time I got to a certain level of fitness, or was physically run down it would hit me again.

About two weeks into the course I woke up in a pool of sweat and shivering. I put up with it through the night and by morning the virus had left my bloodstream and melted away back into my liver. This was one course that I couldn't afford to leave, as I was looking at having my own sniper team for the next trip to East Timor.

Two days later I had a full-blown fever during a navigational exercise where we were just using aerial photography, and narrowly escaped failing it. I started to feel the effects as I was gridding and scaling my aerial photograph. To grid and scale an aerial photo requires measuring the same two known points, one on a map and the other on the photograph. By using a mathematical formula with these two measurements you will get the size of the grid squares required for the aerial photo. Once you have your scale, you can lightly draw on the grid. As we individually set off I could feel myself starting to burn up. The previous times I had been admitted to hospital with malaria my body had a reached a temperature of just over 41 degrees, which could be quite dangerous and trigger convulsions. Anything over 42.5 degrees could permanently damage the brain.

I had to lie down in the shade and open my ghillie suit top until I could bring myself to start walking again. I was really struggling to make sense of what I was doing but I managed to plod on in the right direction. We had to hit six checkpoints and I had only got four, which had taken me all day to get. The others had finished long before.

That evening I managed to get hold of some doxycycline, hoping that the drug would subdue the virus long enough to complete the course. Four days later came the day/night navigation exercise and I had a bad fever the night before. The navex was conducted during some bad weather, which helped keep me cool. I started off okay but it got to the stage where I could only walk about a kilometre then had to stop for a break. I just lay on the side of the road in the rain. I couldn't hold down any food so I just sipped away at my water. Part of my route saw me walking underneath high tension powerlines, which should have been very easy going, as the track was a firebreak, wide and cleared. However, the clay was quite sticky due to the rain.

I'd gone about 200 metres under the powerlines when I fainted. I fell backwards onto my pack, which weighed 32 kilos. I can't remember how many times that happened during that nav leg, but it seemed to take forever. The final checkpoint for the day nav wasn't too far from the end of this clay track but I was absolutely exhausted. Somehow I mustered up the energy to slog away to the end. Once there I was able to get some food on board and after a rest I started to perk up a little. Pete, one of the DS, walked with me on the night navex as he was concerned about my wellbeing, but I finished the nav exercise and went on to finish the team leader course.

Towards the end of the year 3RAR did a series of build-up exercises in and around Townsville in preparation for our second Timor deployment. Lee and I were now promoted to lance corporals. Lee went to Bravo Company as a section 2IC and I stayed on in snipers as a team leader. Sniper section conducted a reasonable amount of our own training as did most of the battalion, only coming together for the final exercise. One day during the course of this exercise I was riding in the back of a Land Rover with Paul as we were being driven out to the range. Our colleague ‘Monty', who was driving, was obviously fatigued and the reconnaissance platoon boss was asleep in the front passenger seat. Monty's driving deteriorated by the minute, so I suggested to him to stop and take a rest. He said he was okay but then drove straight past the turn-off to the range. Paul knew something wasn't right but couldn't quite put his finger on it and asked Monty if he knew where he was going, to which he replied, ‘Yes!' So for a while we sat there and said nothing.

Monty was nodding off momentarily and Paul angrily told him to pull over but he wouldn't, and next minute he drove into a severe dip in the road way too fast, panicked and hit the brakes, which sent us into a 50-metre sideways slide before we hit the bank on the right side of the gravel road and rolled the vehicle onto its side. I got catapulted onto Paul, who hurt his back badly. My first thoughts were to get hold of Monty and punch the hell out of him, but I had to help Paul first. As I got Paul out I noticed this Monty idiot standing beside the Land Rover having a smoke. ‘You fuckin' bastard!' I shouted, ‘Give me a hand!' He was in a state of shock, so I got him to get the accident forms out and start filling in the paperwork. He had to go back inside the vehicle to get the accident forms out, but didn't even bother to help the reconnaissance platoon commander who was still trapped inside by the seatbelt. I had to get in from the driver's door that was facing skywards to help him out.